


Esse quam videri

by Odyle



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blue Lily Lily Blue Spoilers, Gen, Not Beta Read, Skraw Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odyle/pseuds/Odyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How are you?” he asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Esse quam videri

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galfridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/gifts).



Blue was desperate to be out of the house in the days following her mother’s rescue. At first, things were fine. Maura cried and kissed her and clutched her close as if she would never allow her daughter out of her sight again. It quickly became stifling. Blue wanted to remind her mother that she had been the one to leave, not Blue, but she grit her teeth. 

Her mother let her go long enough to let her go to school. It was a welcome relief. The joy of Maura’s return could not drown out the sadness and confusion that had overtaken 300 Fox Way. Death lingered in the corners, but no one had time to sweep it away with Maura’s return and Artemus’s entrance into the household. 

She wasn’t fond of him. Part of her wished she had stabbed him back in the cavern. It would have saved a lot of grief. 

When school ended, she called home to let them know that she would be going to the library. The atmosphere at 300 Fox Way was not conducive to catching up on the homework that had accumulated during the days of school she’d taken off to recuperate. Orla picked up when she called and took the message, though Blue didn’t trust that it would be distributed. 

Blue had no intention of going to the library, but set out in that direction anyhow. If she ran into anyone, she could say she was on her way to the library. 

She encountered Mr. Gray as he emerged from the local bookstore, a waxy brown bag under one arm. Blue liked to look in the windows at all of the crisp and fresh books, but she had only been inside a handful of times. Most of her books were scrounged from the thrift stores of Henrietta. It made sense, however, that Mr. Gray would like his books as tidy as everything else. 

Blue hurried to catch him, but he’d already seen her. He paused, waiting as she hauled herself and her overstuffed backpack down the sidewalk toward him. 

“I was just going to get a late lunch. Will you join me?” Mr. Gray asked. 

Blue eyed him for a moment, sizing him up. “Only if you’re buying,” she said. 

They entered the drug store and took a seat at the counter. Mr. Gray ordered tuna melts for them both. He politely enquired about school and Blue politely answered. Blue politely asked him about hitman duties and he refused to answer. They chatted about things until their sandwiches came. 

Neither spoke while they ate. Blue appreciated that he didn’t feel compelled to attempt conversation. Nothing was as awkward as trying to chat politely when your mouth was stuffed. There were many things about Mr. Gray that Blue liked. She liked the way that she felt at ease around him.  
“How is your mother?” he asked as he passed Blue a bottle of malt vinegar. 

She contemplated this question as she showered her butterfly chips with the vinegar until they were little more than a pile of greasy wet potato matter. It was the question she’d been waiting for since she had seen him coming out of the shop. Blue was impressed that he had waited so long to ask. 

“Emotional,” Blue said, fishing a long ribbon of potato off of the plate. “You should call her.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s appropriate,” he said. At some point of the confusion of that night, someone had informed Mr. Gray of the relationship between Maura and Artemus and the paternity of one Blue Sargent. 

“Screw ‘appropriate’,” Blue said.

Lines creased his forehead. She suspected it was not because she had grease coating her fingers, though that might have contributed. 

“She could use a friendly face,” Blue said. “One that’s not crying or singing or _flighty_.” 

Mr. Gray took a bite out of his pickle. The crunching was audible as he chewed. He was thinking about something and the pickle was buying him time. Each crunch was like a cog turning or a clock ticking. 

Blue stole a chip off of his plate. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

She shrugged. It was the best she could offer. Blue couldn’t tell him about packing up Persephone’s things or the way she caught Artemus inspecting her from a distance whenever they happened to be in the same room. These were things she kept to herself because no one else needed to carry the burden. 

“You can tell me if something’s wrong,” he said. It felt like an honest offer, and Blue thought for a moment of confessing all the things that troubled her. 

“No,” Blue said. “I’ve got it.”


End file.
